


A Suitcase Full Of Polaroids

by big_slug



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: 1990s, Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Coming of Age, F/M, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Friendship, Future Fic, Gen, Good Parent Joyce Byers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Photography, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Road Trips, Self-Discovery, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:10:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26470117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/big_slug/pseuds/big_slug
Summary: The closer he gets to his destination, he finds that nothing about Hawkins seems quite so terrible anymore. No horrors in dark corners, waiting with their teeth sharpened for William Byers to show his face again. If his skin is crawling, the reason is not supernatural. Not after everything he has seen, after everything he has done. Too many good, and too many bad things have happened since he left. Down to earth things. Things that normal people in a normal world deal with on a day to day basis, and it almost seems like the eighties were just a weird fever dream that Will has left behind.Or: Will Byers is coming home.---A hopefully not so futile attempt at a Will Byers road trip to self-discovery. More in the A/N
Relationships: Jonathan Byers & Will Byers, Joyce Byers & Will Byers, Will Byers & Eleven | Jane & Dustin Henderson & Maxine Mayfield & Lucas Sinclair & Mike Wheeler, Will Byers & Original Character(s), Will Byers/Original Character(s)
Kudos: 8





	1. 1992

**Author's Note:**

> Friends... this is really hard for me. No, not this fic (I hope). But for the first time in my "career" here, I have outright abandoned a fic. No, I have fucking deleted it. I do love the idea of a Steampunk AU with these characters, and that kind of things was really up there on my list of concepts I had considered for my "next big thing". And Christ, I had the story laid out in my head quite well. A lot better than back when I started "It's the doubt". But it didn't work. Or I didn't work. I don't know. All I know is that I have done something I'm not proud of and hit that delete-button on that work. It pains me, but that's just the way it is. I had only three chapters out there, but I'm still sorry if anyone was already invested in that story.
> 
> But that's in the past. This right here is... I don't know, it's hard to describe. The idea to this has been fighting that Steampunk-AU really hard in my mind, and in hindsight I think it should have won. The reason why it didn't win initially is that it's much less of an actual story. I thought, 'hey, my previous main work lived off of the mystery and the plot, I'll have to do something similar'. This is different, though. You'll see anthology-like chapters interconnected with a sort of framework of Will telling his friends and family the story of his three-year adventure, trying to finally grow up and figure out who he wants to be in this world.  
> Also, this is basically a post-S2 fic as I had the idea before S3 came out. You know the drill. Married Jopper, Officer Steve Harrington, all that good stuff.  
> I'll leave you with the warning that I am a slow writer, but I do hope that this works out better than this shameful failed attempt.  
> Tags will be expanded on later.

He sets off shortly after midnight, alone with a thermos full of coffee he plans on emptying before the hot summer sun shows its face and makes it impossible to have a hot drink. He just likes to drive in the dark, relishes the feeling of isolation and timeless peace. To Will Byers, this is a time to contemplate, and maybe to shed some silent tears, because his most recent wound is still gaping wide open; It‘s going to remain that way for a while.

The coffee fuels his trip until noon, but exhaustion eventually catches up, and it‘s good that way. He was never going to make the entire way in one go anyways, so at least now is a chance to take a cool shower and fall into a deep, dreamless state of unconsciousness. Will sleeps the afternoon away in a puddle of his own sweat. He drives another twelve hours on another day, although with an important and _very_ satisfying detour to Indianapolis.

The closer he gets to his destination, he finds that nothing about Hawkins seems quite so terrible anymore. No horrors in dark corners, waiting with their teeth sharpened for William Byers to show his face again. If his skin is crawling, the reason is not supernatural. Not after everything he has seen, after everything he has done. Too many good, and too many bad things have happened since he left. Down to earth things. Things that normal people in a normal world deal with on a day to day basis, and it almost seems like the eighties were just a weird fever dream that Will has left behind. Of course, the eighties seem like a weird fever dream to the rest of the nation as well.

He is not going to lie, Will is utterly spent - but that is to be expected after a long drive halfway across the country. He knows he‘ll likely have to stay awake and answer tons of questions for the next twelve or more hours, but oh well. He has survived longer without sleep. Right now a boost is coming. He can feel it in his bones, and the first rush actually hits earlier than expected. It hits at the sight of a sign Will knows wasn‘t there just a few years ago.

‚ _Welcome to Hawkins, Indiana‘_

A familiar greeting, but not on cold metal, austere white letters on ugly brown. It‘s more of a billboard, sixteen by ten foot, propped up by the side of the road. The illustration is not what Will would call expertly done, so the town probably ended up cutting cost there. It‘s generic, trees, deer, a lake. Will has seen many small towns, many places that think they are special because the woods around them are dense and somewhat primeval, in other words a hunter‘s delight.

Will finds the road behind him empty, so he slows down to really take in the artwork. The car comes to a halt with a wide stretch of road behind and ahead, tall trees to either side. The sunlight cuts through the treetops, though, as it illuminates the sign, and Will just can not stand by his initial impression. No cost cutting here, just honest work. Down in the bottom right corner, curved letters in white proclaim _‚Hawkins High, Class of 1992‘_.

It really does paint a smile on Will‘s face. A worthy high school project, he thinks. Let them remember their roots, value the place where they grew up, even if they don‘t know yet how much they‘re going to miss their boring small town home at some point. Very slowly, eyes not leaving the sign until it is out of view, Will gets going again, with the engine humming softly at ten miles an hour. A bit of a mistake, he realizes. Driving over the speed limit will get you pulled over and fined, of course. But driving like a stoner raises actual suspicion. He should have known that the sign and the bushes there also double as a hiding spot for police cruisers. Red lights flash behind him. And Will is quite glad about it.

He pulls over immediately, and soon enough a familiar, slim figure cautiously approaches the car from behind. The officer inspects the license plate first. Window rolled down, Will waits patiently. A yawn precedes the man‘s arrival, which is just so typical. It‘s almost noon, for crying out loud. „Morning, sir. May I see your-“

„License and registration?“ Grinning, Will reaches behind the sun visor. „Of course, officer.“

A silence lingers between the two for a few seconds. Will shrugs and drops the papers on the dash above the steering wheel, because Steve doesn‘t reach for them. What he does, with a wavering voice and his head leaned slightly to the side, is to ask Will to „step out of the vehicle, please.“ Now, Will has learned to comply with police officers‘ orders, so he slowly gets out of his car - it might be Steve‘s dignity that prohibits him from jumping in through the open Window, but at the first chance he gets, he squeals like a little child and throws himself at Will.

„Steve, I‘m so-“ Will begins his first apology of many.

„Kid, you better be sorry. I‘m _this_ close to throwing you in a jail cell and let Hopper decide what to do with you.“ Steve says. „But spare yourself the apologies for your poor mother.“

A sense of discomfort creeps up Will‘s spine. Steve‘s words remind him painfully that he won‘t be the only one telling stories today. He‘s going to be faced with the things he put his family and friends through. „I hoped she‘d understand.“

„She does. But does that make it any better? You could‘ve at least sent a life sign from time to time.“ Steve reprimands in a thick voice that sounds nothing like him. „I‘m still glad you‘re back, Will. I mean, you are back, aren‘t you? Not going to... disappear into the night again?“

Will doesn‘t have to think about this too much. He knows where his place is now. It‘s not Hawkins, but that‘s okay. „Depends on what you mean by _back_. I‘m not back to live here, but... let‘s just say from now on I‘ll keep in touch. And I guess I‘d like to stay for a few weeks.“

„Careful. You know, she might not let you go again. Do you even realize how much you have to explain? Like these license plates. Maine? How the hell did you end up there?“

How long is it really going to take for Will to tell the entire story? Days, he supposes, at least if he wants to do it right. „I know. It‘s a long story. Like, seriously long. Do you want to take me in for official questioning? Wouldn‘t fit my schedule too well, if I‘m being honest.“

Steve snorts. His hand gently pets the handcuffs in their holster. „I‘d gladly lock you up for the night. God knows you deserve it. But I‘ll make an exception if you promise to head straight home.“

„Yeah.“ Will nods. _Home_. What a weird word, but he supposes Steve is right. It is still his home, isn‘t it? And it will always be, no matter how much time he has spent trying to forget about it. Like the immature idiot he was for most of his life so far. „Hopper? Is he on duty?“

„Yeah, on patrol somewhere. I‘ll radio him, if you don‘t mind. Even if you mind. He‘s going to give you a piece of his mind, Will.“

A fond smile fights with a nervous grimace as Will chuckles wryly. „Guess I had it coming. Just... how mad is he really? I just want to know.“

„Not as mad as he used to be.“ Steve says gravely. „But, Will, everyone was mad. Even the ones who understood. I mean, hell, I think I _really_ got why you left, and I still imagined your face on my punching bag for a few weeks.“

„To be honest...“ Will sighs. „To be honest, I tried not to consider _that_ aspect too much in the beginning. This was all about me, I admit that. I was being selfish. And when I apologize, I mean it. Without regretting anything. Does that make sense?“

„A man‘s gotta do what a man‘s gotta do, I guess. You‘re looking good, if that helps.“ Steve very roughly pats at Will‘s shoulder. „Now, wait a second. Why did I pull you over again?“

„Because I was going too slow?“ Will suggests. „I was just looking at that new sign. You know, this is art, so...“

„Right, right. We, I mean pretty much all us cops, told them to put it up a little higher. Just so we wouldn‘t be called out for two cases of vandalism a week, I mean, hell, this is a prime target. But whatever, even the idiot kids of this town are taking some pride in it. Nothing‘s happened so far. Anyway, you‘re not drunk or stoned or whatever?“

„I‘m not even going to answer that.“ Driving drunk? Never. Driving stoned? Well, there was this one incident back in California, but Steve doesn‘t have to know that... _yet_. There is a time and place for everything, and the shoulder of the road in the dry July heat isn‘t the place for the story of Will‘s life and mistakes. „Drop by tonight if you want to know what I‘ve been up to, yeah?“

„You bet I will.“ Steve grins. „You better not keep your mother waiting any longer. She should be home.“

* * *

Hawkins is, well... it‘s just Hawkins. No supernatural creatures, no lovecraftian darkness between the trees. Just the summer sun, kids in shorts with ice cream cones, housewives pushing strollers. One hand on the wheel, one running through his damp hair, Will takes in the scene around him whenever he can. Oh, the normalcy of it all. Somehow, he failed to see any of this after 1983. His perspective undoubtedly has changed for the better. Again and again he thinks _‚Oh, that‘s the spot where we used to...‘,_ or _‚I remember how we always...‘_. Every corner holds a memory, and most of them are good. Even the one that involves Will‘s knees scraped bloody, Mike‘s knuckles bruised and Troy‘s nose gushing red all over the sidewalk.

Will even takes a small detour to see Melvald‘s, but unsurprisingly, it‘s closed down. Like so many places after the arrival of modern times, also known as Starcourt Mall. He wonders if mom has found a job there. Likely. No better way to find out than to just ask her. It‘s not really fear he is feeling, but a churning and twisting deep inside his guts. Guilt, above everything else. Will might still think he did the right thing, and he‘d do it again, but he never assumed that facing the consequences would be easy.

The station wagon crawls along the forest path as fast as he dares to push it. And what a sight Will‘s childhood home is to behold. It‘s been renovated, he realizes. And expertly so. If the roof isn‘t entirely new, it has at least been fixed. The walls are cleaner than he has ever seen them, and there is no sign of the junk and old furniture that used to clutter the space between the house and their various sheds. There is a car parked in front of it, too. Still the same Civic, the car she bought after handing down her Pinto to Will. But unlike the Pinto, the Civic is not rusting away on some junkyard half a world from here. He pulls up right beside it, kills the engine, and then... sits there. Has she heard the rumble of the cylinders?

His last subconscious dread is shattered right then and there in the car, watching his mom open the door and stare blankly at this unfamiliar station wagon in her driveway. She squints her eyes against the sunlight reflecting off the windshield, but she doesn‘t look any different. It‘s ridiculous, and Will knows it, but there was this nightmare he had a few times about this moment. About finding a hunched over elderly lady with white hair instead of his mom. No, this is just her, the same Joyce Byers he has known all his life. So Will steps out of the car in a half-trance, taking only a small suitcase out of his several bags of luggage with him. He stumbles up to the porch.

His mom is all wide eyes and shallow breaths - and just in time to scold himself for it, Will realizes his mistake. He is an idiot for wanting the dramatic effect of a surprise visit. She even has the time to tell him herself. „Y-You should have called before-“

Yes, he should have called. Now he has to drop the suitcase on the porch, jump forward and catch her fall before she hits the ground. „Crap.“ Will whispers to himself. His mom is a lightweight, and even if she was fully unconscious, he‘d have no problem carrying her. With a little help, though, she can still drag herself to the living room. Will barely has time to take in the new wallpaper and carpets that surround mostly the same old furniture, now rearranged to look a little more inviting and open. The place is bright now.

„Lie down. Lie down, mom. I‘ll get you a glass of water. It‘s like a hundred degrees in here.“ Will has the presence to unplug the iron that she has just worked with on one of Hopper‘s uniform shirts. He fills up a glass in the kitchen like he has done so many times, splashes some water in his face, and then hurries back to the living room. His mom isn‘t one to follow orders, or maybe she didn‘t even hear him, so Will finds her sitting. It really does sting that this is all his fault. Never, _ever_ in his life has he heard that kind of sound from her. Mike, the storyteller with the vocabulary of a savant, could not describe it with all his poetic ability.

Nothing for Will to do than to let her cry it out, to hold her for all those long minutes during which one hand digs into the small of his back, while the other pounds between his shoulder blades in a desperate rage. Physical pain, bruising that he thinks he deserves; He welcomes it. If it makes her feel better, he would gladly let her continue all afternoon. But his mom calms down, or exhausts herself. Just two, three minutes in, every punch is weaker than the last. Until she just dissolves and turns to liquid in his arms.

„I got you.“ Will says lamely in an attempt to fight back his own tears. „I‘m here.“

„Where- where-?“ she hiccups.

„Everywhere, mom. I‘ve been everywhere. Too many places to count.“

„Three years! And you couldn‘t even be bothered to _call_!“

Will has to swallow thickly. He still doesn‘t know if he is allowed to be proud of it. He made it, didn‘t he? He grew up. Lived his own life as an adult who can fend for himself. The fact that he is here serves as proof. „I‘m so, so sorry. Mom, I-“

„Never!“ his mom cries. „Never do this to me again! You hear me?“

„Mom-“

„Say it!“ she demands, not leaving Will even two seconds to respond. „Say it, or get out of my house and don‘t come back!“

When he looks at her, there is a sense of fear to her eyes. Does she think Will could actually leave again like that? His voice is firm and deep, he quite likes the sound of it now. „Mom, I‘m back. And I promise you‘ll always know where I am and what I‘m doing. I‘ll end up in hell if I break that promise. Do you believe me?“

A mother can turn a man into a child in the blink of an eye. Will hasn‘t allowed himself to be a child in years because he felt it was bad for him. Now it feels good, though. Not like the prison his childhood used to seem to him, but safe and protected from a world that can - Will knows this first hand - be cruel. As a grown up, towering almost one foot over his mother, he allows her to make him feel tiny.

„I believe you.“

„Good. Because I mean it.“ Will tells her solemnly. „Mom, there‘s nothing I can do to ever make up for this.“

„I think... I think I know why you did it.“ she all but whispers in the weak voice of someone who has just narrowly escaped a heart attack. „I‘m not mad, sweetie. I‘ve never been.“

„Did El ever tell you about that night? She probably did, huh?“ Will wouldn‘t mind at all. Rather, he knows what he put El through by demanding a promise from her, and if she needed a vent for that, he hopes she found it.

„No. I stopped asking after a while. She said a promise is a promise. But she did call every week to let us know you‘re alive and well. Nothing more.“

Will finds himself grinning, a bit overwhelmed with love for his sister. His bets are that she hasn‘t missed a week, and that she has regarded her promise as an unbreakable iron bond between them. He also can‘t think of an occasion when their mutual agreement could have resulted in awkwardness, so that‘s probably a win. „Want me to tell you about it, then? I hope you didn‘t resent her for letting me go.“

„I‘d never.“ Fingernails dig into Will‘s shoulder. „She helped us all understand. You two are so much alike, you know. What happened that night?“

Will closes his eyes for a second, recalling the scene in June of 1989, one of the first hot summer nights of the year. Well, one of the first awfully unbearable nights, that is. Much like today, actually. He tries to recall how he thought it was perfect. A night that made you want to _roll down the window and let the wind blow back your hair_ , though he never cared too much for Springsteen.

„It was unceremonious.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There may be very drastic changes in chapter length. Basically, the intermitten chapters set in 1992 could come out reather short at times.


	2. The First Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys... do you sometimes sort of drown in all the things you want to do? Or, in my case, write? It can be paralyzing, in a way. I like to "work" on my stories in bed, because I'm actually pretty good at memorizing stuff. So usually I'll just lie down, close my eyes and advance the plot in my head. But it gets difficult when different stories are fighting for attention.
> 
> Just wanted to get this off my chest. That being said, I've had a whole lot of very thorough thinking sessions about this particular fic.
> 
> EDIT 10.08.20 -- Alright, so it might take a while for me to post anything again. Not just this fic, but in general. I'm just putting this here because this is my most recent work, so if anyone wonders they might check here. Can you guess what's going on? Yep, I wasn't feeling too well since yesterday around noon. Slight fever, sore throat, you know the deal. I'm slightly more at risk than your average person because of a heart condition, so I got tested, and what do you know, I caught the pestilence... Just got off the phone with my doctor, and now there's really not a lot I can do but wait and see how this plays out. I can breathe just fine, I'm coughing just a little, and right now there's no fever to speak of anymore, but that might change. If things take a turn for the worse, it will happen within the next 3-4 days. Now I'll go back to filling out this list of people I've been in contact with since last week. Good luck, everyone. Wash your hands.

**June, 1989**

If not tonight, he would never do it. Will Byers was painfully aware of that fact. It wasn‘t like he had waited any longer than he had to, but that was the point. No, his graduation gown, that he had slipped out of only a few hours ago, was still hanging discarded from a chair in the corner of his bedroom, the high school diploma lying on his desk, taunting _‚Don‘t waste me, William!‘_. But he knew that staying in Hawkins would make him lose direction. And that following this piece of paper in its heavy burgundy envelope would lead him into the desert from where there might be no escape, once and for all. Will didn‘t want to lose direction any more than he already had, and her certainly didn‘t want to die of thirst, so it had to be done tonight.

He worked slowly, quietly, and methodically. What did he really need? He wasn‘t a seven year old deciding to run away from home. Someone who would pack his favorite toy dinosaur and three granola bars in a plastic suitcase or a bindle, like in a Tom and Jerry cartoon. Will was being serious, so he packed clothes. As many shirts and sweaters as he could fit in his duffel bags, the ones he had bought in secret and left in his trunk for days so his mom and Hopper wouldn‘t find them. He packed tapes, some blank ones as well as some mixes. He packed a Polaroid he‘d picked up from a yard sale that spring, complete with enough film to fill two entire albums. He packed his money too, a grand total of four hundred dollars he had saved up through months of work.

Will eventually deemed his luggage appropriate, and once he did that, his heart basically sunk into the pit of his stomach, a hammering lump that threatened to turn him inside-out. He was really going to do this. Again he thought _It‘s now or never_. The final step out of the door and into the adult world would be the hardest. His very own Everest. After that, Will Byers would be free forever. Free of this town and the memories it harbored, broken out of the prison made up of fear and stares and paranoia.

He deposited his bags by the front door, knowing he was stalling. _Just a minute_ , he told himself. A part of him, a well-hidden fraction of his subconscious, desperately wished for them to wake up. For mom to beg him, for El to restrain him, for Hopper to put him in handcuffs. Anything to stop him. He slowly strolled through the living room. His hand grazed the sofa; He didn‘t have to see or touch it to memorize every torn up spot, every cigarette burn, every stain. Wine, chocolate, once even dog shit, back in first grade when Will had stepped into one of Chester‘s piles and then carelessly flung his feet on the couch without taking his shoes off.

The kitchen, where, a few years back, _the fight_ happened. The last drop that caused a relationship to implode. After that, the tension in the house finally dissolved, and it really became a home. _„We‘re better off without him. I‘ll go look for a job tomorrow, and even if it‘s just mowing lawns.“_ Jonathan said right at this kitchen table, his hands firmly planted on their mom‘s shoulders. Will traced the little dents in the table with his fingertips. He continued down the hall, ignoring the door to his own room to instead stop right where the snoring was the loudest. How mom could sleep in one room with that man, he had no idea. But he smiled fondly, because he knew she would always be safe with him.

Two, three long minutes, he softly rested a hand on their bedroom door, fighting back the urge to barge in and beg them to lock him in before he could do anything stupid. He did the same with El‘s door. Will wanted to thank her again, in person, not in some letter that would have to serve as a puny excuse for a proper goodbye. He felt like a coward that moment, just for being unable to face everyone and tell them _„I‘m leaving.“_

Will‘s steps were firm and resolute on his way out, the bags weighed down on him with a reassuring force. He slipped the envelope addressed to his family into the mailbox. He had decided not to leave it on his bed; It would have looked too much like a suicide note, which might have caused someone a heart attack. The way to the car would feel like an eternity, as he had chosen to park further away from the house than usual. His Pinto‘s old engine was a loud thing, rattling and coughing like a lung cancer patient. He was about halfway there when he heard her voice behind him, when he felt an unbreakable force locking him in place.

„You lied.“

„I did.“ Will said into the black abyss of the woods in front of him. „Would you please let me turn around?“ As if on cue, his body jerked around, without his own doing.

El was on the porch, in her pajamas, arms crossed. A trickle of blood dripped from her scrunched nose under a deep scowl. „You threw away the acceptance letter.“

„Yes.“ Will confirmed. No use lying now. Wasn‘t this what he secretly wanted? „I had my reasons.“

„So you‘re running away now? Leaving everyone behind?“ El kept her head high, looking at Will with disdain. He really couldn‘t blame her. She held loyalty, like Mike so often displayed it, in the highest regards. Going like this must have seemed like the ultimate betrayal to her.

„If you will... I guess that‘s what I‘m doing.“ He still couldn‘t move, his sister firmly holding him in place with her telekinetic ability. „So, are you going to stop me? Wake up mom and Hop?“

He already knew the answer before El could say anything. She‘d kept her voice down until now, and it didn‘t look like she was planning to change that. Perhaps, without condoning, she understood. „I‘m not stupid, Will.“ she said lowly.

„I never assumed that.“

„I had my suspicions, and I didn‘t tell them. I mean, why did no one see how convenient it was for you to lose your wallet last month? Your new license is going to be valid for five years. Is that how long you want to be gone?“

_Not stupid_ , Will thought. _More like observant and intelligent to the point of hurting herself with that sharp mind of hers._ „Okay, I admit, that was a dumb idea. I don‘t know what I was thinking. And believe me, the two hour line at the DMV was punishment enough. How unnecessary.“ It was a clumsy attempt to deflect some of her attention from the matter at hand, and El didn‘t fall for it.

„Doesn‘t change the fact that you‘re leaving without even saying goodbye.“ she all but growled. „What is Joyce going to say? A letter won‘t do, and you know it.“

„Look, El...“ Will sighed. „I‘m a coward. I can‘t look her in the eyes and tell her I‘m leaving. But I can‘t stay here either. And that‘s exactly _why_ I have to go. When I look ahead, all I can see is this man-child, too afraid and too comfortable to live his life.“

„You wouldn‘t have to stay here. You got accepted into at least three colleges! Why did you apply in the first place if you knew you didn‘t want to go?“

„So they‘d all leave me alone for the rest of High School. Do you think I want to be pestered with questions about my future all the time when I just can‘t tell anyone that I want to go a different way? There are so many things out there I want to see. Stuff I‘d never get to do if I were to walk in a straight line. I don‘t know what I‘m looking for exactly, but I know it‘s out there. _Out there_ , not in some text book.“

„Why?“ El pressed again. „There‘s going to be a time after college.“

„Sure there is.“ Will said bitterly. „And if I wait until then, I‘m gonna be no smarter, just a few years older. Sorry, Ellie. I don‘t want to be a twenty-two, twenty-three year old child with a college diploma. Just face it, I‘ve not grown up like the rest of you have, and a few more years of school won‘t fix me! I‘m stuck!“

Perhaps El knew that he was right, because her mouth opened for a response, and then closed again. That was also the second when Will was finally let go. A relieved breath escaped him; Being subject to El‘s powers was never a pleasant experience. She rarely used her abilities on people, though, so it had been a few years since his last first-hand experience with this.

„You‘re letting me go?“ Will asked.

„Are we a prison to you? Do you think we‘re holding you back?“ El whispered. „Just tell me the truth. Please. You can go wherever you want if you tell me.“

„No.“ Will said, and it was the truth. „It‘s this town. I don‘t know what it‘s done to me. Fucked up my childhood, I suppose? I just... I just think getting out of Hawkins wouldn‘t be enough. I also have to get Hawkins out of myself. I don‘t know if I can ever come back here.“

„Out of all people...“ El said. „...I should understand. I‘m sorry.“

„I‘m sorry too, if that helps. I know I‘m being selfish.“

El came down from the porch then, wincing when twigs and little rocks poked her bare feet. Still, she walked briskly across the dry ground. Nothing she had said so far came so close to stopping Will as her embrace did. Will‘s bags landed on the ground heavily so he could put his arms around her. „Tell the others how much I love them, yeah?“

„I‘ll remind them.“

„Ellie...“ Will sighed. „There‘s something I have to ask of you. Something I want you to promise me. I know you could find me anywhere in the world, but I can‘t live my life always looking over my shoulder. Mike would come after me. Don‘t tell him where I am, okay? Don‘t tell anyone.“

  
„This is a lot to ask.“ El sobbed.

„Too much?“

„No. I promise not to tell them. But I‘ll check up on you, and you can‘t stop me. And if you end up in danger-“

Will laughed wetly. „I‘ll try not to get myself into trouble. But it‘s good to know someone will be watching from time to time. Can I ask for some privacy, though? Let‘s say...“ He did some mental acrobatics. „Wednesday and Sunday, between six and ten in the evening, central time. Just so I know when I shouldn‘t be taking a dump.“

El laughed too, through her heaving sobs. „I promise.“

„Hey, I‘ve put this in my letter, but please make sure mom uses my room for whatever she wants. There are two boxes on my bed with stuff I‘d like you to store away somewhere, but that‘s all. Who knows, maybe Hop needs a hobby room. He‘s the type of guy I can imagine with a model train.“

These were the last words Will spoke to his sister that night. No _‚thank you for saving my life‘_ , like she would have deserved. No matter his dissatisfaction with the letter, he realized he couldn‘t tell her these things in person right now. It would have made him stay. He was a coward who needed curing. Who needed to grow up.


End file.
